


Rogers and Wilson

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, basically just sam and steve gettin' it on, if i loved sam any more than i already do my name would be steve rogers, no lie, steve dies in the second chapter sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets from tumblr and my computer. The title is a play on Hozier's song Jackie and Wilson :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Steve wanted Sam to just bend him over the pool table and fuck him until the only thing Steve had left in his vocabulary was Sam's name"

Steve and Sam are the only ones left after Stark had lured the rest of the guests out with the promise of a fireworks display (and a spectacular explosion). Sam’s got Steve backed up against the pool table, kissing him aggressively. His big warm hands have moved under Steve’s shirt, gripping his waist and kneading at the thick muscles. 

Steve is all for heavy makeout sessions, but he can’t help but worry about the others coming back in to find them in the middle of something- well- not suited for the public eye.

He ducks away from Sam’s mouth. 

“Sam, maybe we should, you know, take this somewhere private?”

Unconcerned, Sam attacks Steve’s neck, biting and sucking bruises that will fade in a few hours. 

“We’ll be quick, don’t worry,” Sam mutters against Steve’s neck, “Besides, they’re all pretty much completely drunk. Probably won’t even remember this. And if they do, then hey, free show.”

Steve feels a thrill, just imagining being walked in on, dozens of people watching them.

“You like that, huh?” Sam chuckles, hot breath gusting over Steve’s skin. 

Steve blushes, ears and cheeks turning pink. “Shut up.”

“Why don’t you come over here and make me?”

So Steve does, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and dragging him forward to press their mouths together. Sam shoves Steve down onto the table, sending the balls rolling.

“Hey, look at that! You finally got one in!”

“I hate you,” Steve pouts, undoing his pants and shucking them off with his shoes and socks until all he’s wearing is his shirt and jacket. Sam’s doing the same, but he leaves them halfway down his thighs, far more interested in the packet of lube he fished out of his pocket. Steve lets his knees fall open as Sam steps in between his thighs, squeezing lube out onto his hand.

Steve wants to tease him, ask if he thought about getting lucky later that night, but the cool press of a slick finger against him shuts him up immediately. His mouth drops open, eyes scrunched closed.

“Oh,” he sighs, “keep- keep doing that.”

Sam huffs a laugh and presses a second finger in alongside the first, slowly pumping them in and out. He hitches one of Steve’s legs up onto his shoulder to drop a kiss on his calf. Steve tries to suppress a shiver at the scratchiness of Sam’s beard and fails. His skin prickles with goosebumps.

“One more,” Sam murmurs, rubbing firm circles into Steve’s hip with his free hand. Steve groans at the stretch and the slight burn, then squeaks when Sam finds his prostate.

“Sam-“ he breaks off into a moan when Sam does it again. And again.

Steve curses, grinding down on Sam’s fingers. “Fucking just put it in me before I die of old age, Wilson.”

That startles another laugh out of Sam and he complies, slicking himself up and slowly pushing into Steve, where he’s blood-hot and smooth and so, so tight. They both groan when he bottoms out; Steve feeling impossibly full, and Sam nearly overwhelmed by the heat and the smoothness of Steve’s insides.

The heel of a foot collides with the small of Sam’s back, a silent hint from Steve to start moving.

“Okay, okay,” Sam grumbles, and fits his hands around Steve’s hips to keep him in place, before pulling back and slamming in. Steve jolts, moving up the table with the force of the thrust. He fights to keep from crying out with pleasure. Sam’s head is already inflated from the night before, when Steve had come untouched, just by hearing Sam talk dirty to him.

So Steve taunts him, wriggling his ass in invitation, shifting Sam’s dick in the most delightful way. “Is that all you can do?”

Sam growls, bending down and playfully nipping at Steve’s collarbone. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard the only thing coming out of your mouth will be my name, Rogers.”

Steve’s cock twitches. He likes the sound of that. He smirks, trying to play it cool.

“Is that a challenge?”

“You tell me,” bites Sam, and starts thrusting in earnest, as Steve wraps his legs tighter around Sam’s waist. He knows he’s hitting Steve’s prostate when he changes the angle and starts hearing Steve stop moaning and start panting instead. His jaw is slack, bottom lip wet and plush. Sam gently tugs at it between his teeth.

“Yeah-“encourages Sam, “Baby, you feel so good. You’re so good.”

A blush spreads over Steve’s face and chest, nipples hard and pink. Sam can’t resist, so he dips down and laves over the little mound of flesh.

“Sam,” Steve breathes, “Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam-“ His hand is moving up and down on his cock, the slick head peeking out from the circle of his fingers.

“Come on,” hisses Sam, “Come on, let go for me, you can do it baby, come on,”

And he does, arching his back and clamping his knees hard around Sam as he climaxes, brow furrowed and eyes shut. Sam wants to take a video so he could see this forever, over and over again, how absolutely blissed out Steve is when he comes.

“So good,” Sam says, voice strangled as Steve’s aftershocks make his ass clench around Sam’s cock. He’s so close. “Think you can handle a little more?”

Steve nods, watching him with wide eyes, body lax and pliant after his orgasm.

 _I did this_ , thinks Sam, fucking him hard and fast, _I made this happen_.

He comes, shoving in deep inside, dropping his forehead to Steve’s as it tingles through the rest of his body. They lie there for a moment, lazily licking into each other’s’ mouths, and stroking every bit of bared skin they can find.

\--

Sam and Steve excuse themselves when the rest of the Avengers come back in. They pretend to not notice the smell of sex or the way Sam smugly eyes Steve’s ass as he stiffly walks away, flushing the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, this one is angsty. there's a rather graphic description of Steve's injuries here, so just skip this chapter if that's not something you want to read <3

Something in Sam’s chest plummets at the sight of Steve’s body, small and dark against the wide backdrop of blue, looking impossibly fragile despite all his bulk. It’s how Riley looked when he was shot out of the sky.

They fell the same way, the two. Both glancing back at Sam with a little crooked smile of amusement as the wind whipped at their blond hair, crinkled eyes glistening from the stinging air, as if to say: _Looks like it’s over for us, Sammy. It’s been fun._

Riley, engulfed in flames, screaming at the end.

Steve, with dirt-smeared skin and shattered bones.

“No,” Sam chokes out, breath torn from his lungs, diving towards Steve, arms tucked close to his body to make him as streamlined as possible. He can’t let this happen a second time. He _won’t_ let this happen a second time.

The wingpack responds beautifully, humming softly on his spine. He must be doing- what- 190? 200 mph? Sam doesn’t give a shit how well the new design is working; he would tear the wings off his back with his own two hands and walk on the ground for the rest of his life if it meant he could save Steve.

Closer-just an arm’s length away, but to Sam, it’s a light year. They’re so close to the ground- so close-

Steve and Sam both shout out when theirs hands connect. Bile touches the back of Sam’s throat when he realizes that he’d grabbed onto the broken wrist.

His arm is being torn from his body- no- but it feels like it is. His shoulder burns, biceps and triceps and deltoids straining at the weight of a 220-pound supersoldier hanging on to his hand. The leather glove creaks under his fingers. Steve’s grip is bruising and the pain is everything because it means he’s here, he’s here and he’s alive.

“Steve.”

 

 

At least, that’s how it would’ve gone in a perfect world.

In a perfect world, Sam wouldn’t have had to watch Steve draw his last breath with drowning lungs, coughing up blood and trying to cry out in between aborted movements. Wouldn’t have to see the way he lay there on the pavement, spine broken and limbs bent the wrong way, see the blood and brains smeared across Steve’s forehead, bright red and gray, and so much- _so much of it_ , coming out of him.

Instead, he misses Steve’s hand by a _hair_ , feels the warm brush of his fingertips across his just before he hit the ground with a sickening _thud_.

"Steve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: Steve: *tears log in half* Sam: *tears that ass up*

Sam approaches Steve at the bar after the Congratulations, We’re Not Dead! party, slightly tipsy and looking devious, stalking towards him from across the room with a smile in his eyes and a glass of water in his hand.

“Hey, Steve.” He’s trying not to grin, Steve can see it.

A tiny part of Steve is telling him that Sam is up to something, but he doesn’t know what it could be. Besides, he trusts him completely. So Steve dips his head in a lazy hello and sips at his colorful cocktail, pulling a face at the amount of sugar in the drink.

“A little birdie told me that you got pretty worked up when you were talking to Tony on the farm.” Sam says, taking the empty seat. He puts his feet on the bar connecting the two front legs of Steve’s chair, in between Steve’s legs, which fall open a little wider to give Sam space.

“Did you really tear a log in half while chopping wood?”

He was angry at the time-- what did he want him to say? He knows Sam worries about him constantly, and he hates to disappoint him. “Look, I know I need to control my reactions, but Tony was really getting in my face, okay?” He looks at his hands, frustrated at himself for being so easily incensed. “I just wanted to punch him, and the log was right there.”

There’s no reply from Sam, and Steve glances up to see his smile fading, forehead wrinkled in concern.

“No, Steve--“ He sets down his glass and places a hand on Steve’s nervously tapping fingers.

“Look, man, you handled that just fine, I promise. You didn’t punch Stark and the only thing you broke was a piece of wood. Anyway, that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Steve cocks his head, curious. “What did you want to talk about?”

“The, uh, ripping a log in half part.” Sam laughs. “Seriously, that sounds so aggressively hot. I can’t believe I missed it. Would’ve jumped your bones right then and there.”

A blush rises on Steve’s cheeks. “Oh.”

“I bet it took you no effort, with those arms of yours.” Sam runs a warm hand up one of Steve’s biceps, rubbing at the pale skin there. Steve watches the slow movements of his thumb, entranced by the contrast between Sam’s skin and his.

“It-- it didn’t. Um. Take any effort, I mean.”

“Mmm. How much can you bench press? 500? 600?”

“1,000 pounds.” mumbles Steve, bashful all of a sudden.

“So you could very easily pick me up, couldn’t you? Hold me up against a wall and fuck me? I bet your arms wouldn’t even feel sore afterwards.”

Unbelievably, Steve’s blush gets even pinker, spreading across his cheekbones, and across his chest, unseen. That just riles Sam up. There’s nothing he loves more than Steve getting all hot and bothered while being shy about it.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, I could. Sam—can I—“ He makes an aborted gesture towards Sam’s face, and Sam nods, taking his feet off Steve’s chair and stepping in between his knees, looking down at Steve. He’s just a few inches taller than Steve seated, and he enjoys the power it gives him.

He stands there with Steve’s jaw cradled in the curve of his palms, feeling Steve’s gentle inhale-exhale as his face hovers an inch from Steve’s, waiting.

“Sam,  _please_ —“There it is, what Sam’s been waiting for. He ducks down, closing the space that separates them, and kisses Steve, soft and light. A tickling sensation creeps over his hips, and he breaks away to see Steve’s long fingers encircling his waist.

“Moving a bit fast, there, Rogers.” He laughs, stepping back. Steve stands up and follows him as Sam leads the way out of the room and into his own quarters. He’s got a few pieces of clothing slumped in piles of fabric on the floor, but that’s about as messy as it gets. Sam kicks the door shut behind them, and backs Steve towards his bed, quickly stripping him of his shirt and sliding the pants off with his shoes and socks.

Steve gets pushed down flat on his back. 

“Stay.” he watches as Sam reaches over to grab the lube, and tugs insistently at his shirt when he comes back, silently asking.

“Yeah, okay.” He lets him eagerly pull off Sam’s clothes, eyes wandering greedily over each piece of skin as it’s exposed, running hungry fingers over his flat stomach, the satiny skin on the inside of his thighs, the hollow at the small of his back.

Sam pats his side, and Steve obediently cants his hips up, feet flat on the mattress and knees bent, making space for Sam to move forward and wedge his torso between his legs, slipping the tip of a slick finger into his ass. Steve gasps sharply and clenches around the intrusion.

“This is fine?”

“’s good,” Steve sighs, pushing back on Sam’s finger, cock bobbing from the movement.

“Gimme another.”

He’s so damn greedy for this, for Sam’s fingers—anything, really—in his ass, so Sam gives it to him, slicks up a second finger and shoves that in too, his own dick left forgotten in favor of working Steve open, real slow.

When he slides in a third finger alongside the first two, Steve groans loudly at the stretch, all drawn out long, lifting and dropping his hips, searching for the right angle. 

Sam helps, curling his fingers a little bit, pressing at Steve’s hot inner walls until he finds that sweet spot and rubs and rubs and rubs at it, forcing short cries from Steve’s open mouth.

“ _Ohh--_  oh, Sam—please, please--“He’s so needy for it, so desperate for Sam’s dick, and he loves it, playing at being helpless in his overlarge body, pinned down by Sam’s weight.

“What do you need? Tell me, baby, c’mon, say it—“He quickly fumbles the lube one-handed and manages to pour some on his cock.

“Want—want your dick, please, Sam, gimme—“ He’s got Steve begging for him and he’s so beautiful like this, long powerful limbs laid across his mattress, clinging to him like a burr with his wet bitten lips and heaving chest splotched red.

“Well, when you say it like that--”

Steve moans, high and breathy as Sam pushes in with one smooth stroke, circling his hips and grinding against Sam’s crotch. He’s so goddamn hot inside, so smooth and tight around him it’s like paradise in this bed of rumpled sheets and sweat and the smell of sex thick in the air. Sam gives a short thrust, shoving Steve a little ways up, helpless to stop himself from being jerked around so easily.

“Harder,” Steve mumbles, digging his fingertips into Sam’s back. “Fuck me harder.”

So he does, grabbing Steve’s legs and dragging him closer, snapping his hips forward aggressively, forcing tiny sharp  _ah_ ’s from Steve’s throat.

“Oh, oh Sam,  _god_ , Sam—“

“Yeah, come for me, you’re so good, c'mon Steve.”

He  _wails_ \-- that’s the only word for it--wails when he comes, raking blunt nails down Sam’s back and sides, leaving hot trails of raised skin. Sam hisses from the pain, dropping his forehead onto the left side of Steve’s chest and sucks at a hard pink nipple as his ass clenches convulsively around Sam, pulling him in deeper. He waits for Steve to catch his breath.

“Sam,” murmurs Steve after a minute, his pupils like round pools of spilled ink, dark and wide.

“I wanna—can I ride you?”

“ _God yes_.”

Sam pulls out with a slick sound, Steve making a soft noise of loss as he moves away to lean back on the headboard. Steve crawls up his body and straddles him, ass positioned just over the head of Sam’s dick, teasing. Not now, dammit.

“Fuck, Steve. Get on it.” bites Sam, gripping hard at Steve’s little waist. He sits, smoothly taking Sam in until his sweet ass is flush against Sam’s groin. Without ceremony, Steve immediately lifts back up and slams down, making Sam choke on his own spit from his sharp intake of breath.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve’s dick is still hard, jerking prettily as he bounces up and down in Sam’s lap, arching his back and thrusting his chest at Sam. He takes the hint and bends to suck a nipple into his mouth, scraping it with his teeth.

 “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Steve nods with staccato movements, jaw slack, and circles his hips, purposefully squeezing around Sam.

“Ah,” Sam pants. “’m gonna come.” Steve moans encouragingly.

It takes a few more thrusts into Steve’s body, and then Sam does, deep inside Steve’s ass, loudly, and for so long, he thinks he’s going to pass out. Distantly, he feels Steve come too, insides rippling and hot semen splattering onto Sam’s belly.

They flop over in a tangle of limbs, Sam’s now-soft dick slipping out of Steve, lying spent in between his thighs.

“You’re gonna let me watch you tear a log in half one day,” drawls Sam, nudging a finger into Steve’s ass to test its looseness. He's- god, he's dripping out of him, all slick and warm. His dick twitches with interest, but it’s still too soon for another round.

Steve mouths at Sam’s shoulder, licking along the thin skin of his collarbone.

“I’d be happy to--as long as you can find me one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


End file.
